


Prisoners Dilemma

by LiotusWrites



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domination, Kink cliches, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Minor Injuries, Noncon to dubcon to harder daddy, Physical Abuse, Prison Sex, Prisoner of War, minor breath play, some mental abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 11:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20975288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiotusWrites/pseuds/LiotusWrites
Summary: Cor finds himself at the mercy of General Glauca in a dark prison somewhere far away from Insomnia. He's quick to find out exactly why the General is keen to keep him alive, and all to himself. But Cor has plans of his own, and the Lion of Lucis has no intent to surrender without a fight.





	Prisoners Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll know exactly why you're here. Enjoy.

The unconscious body was heavy, but two burly soldiers were enough to drag the Immortal down the dim corridors. The iron bar door slid open and they threw the man on the ground, body landing heavily on raw, cold concrete. Even then, the Immortal lay still.

“Well, that was easy,” the younger Niflheim soldier muttered.

His older partner laughed, bent over and started ruffling through the mans pockets . “He’s out cold. I could break his arm and he won’t do a thing about it.”

The younger soldier grimaced and edged towards the cell door. Their prisoner was none other than Cor Leonis, unconscious or not the man was well known and deeply feared even amongst their own ranks. Seeing the legend himself laying there so motionless was like watching a sleeping lion. Any minute he could wake up.

“Relax, rookie. He ain’t gonna do jackshit,” the older soldier said. Boldly he grabbed the body by the arm and hauled him on his side, pulling and sliding the jacket off with little care. Cors body thumped on the side before rolling onto his front as the arm was let go.

The soldier proceeded to walk out the cell, admiring the jacket and small items in hand. “Nice shit he’s got. Lucians always have the good stuff.” 

The younger soldier murmured in agreement. The cell door slid shut with a heavy thud.

“See, he ain’t done shit.”

“But what are we doing with him? What if Lucians come looking?”

The older soldier scoffed. “You don’t ask questions here, that’s General Glaucas problem now. Lets go before he catches us. Now that’s something you don’t want.”

“R-Right.”

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~

Cor blinks back into the grim dark world in front of him. Of concrete, dirt and pain all down his back radiating like needles. He groans, finding little will to move immediately. He doesn’t quite gauge how long he’s been lying awake, only that it didn’t take long to register where he was and what had happened.

The sting of betrayal and the pain of hopelessness. Insomnia must think he’s dead, for all his comrades on the battlefield surely are. One minutes he was standing underneath the morning sun at a military base on the outskirts of Lucis, the next, bombs were going off at the heart of the compound. If he makes it out of here he will make the traitor responsible for it, pay.

He grits his teeth and tries to get up to his knees. Craning his neck he checks out the dim surroundings. There’s barely any light in his small, cramped prison cell. A single toilet, a sink beside it, a raised slab of concrete with a pathetic excuse of an old blanket and pillow. The floors and the walls are all worn concrete decorated with small chips, cracks and discoloration from a flaky paint job.

Cor pulls himself up onto the hard bed, legs shaky from whatever they did to him. Ah, seems to be a standard prison of war setup. Only a few steps in front was an enormous door, bars looking new, hard and sturdy with no key slot in sight. Judging from the placement Cor seems to have the honour of a room at the end of some hallway. The cell in front of his own, dark and vacant, to his right, nothing but wall, to his left possibly another cell. Hard to tell.

He finds some relief in laying down properly, he shoves the old blanket and pillow aside and tries to slowly breath. His own body is screaming for sleep, and dull fatigue sets into his muscles and he’s pained by almost every joint in his body. The cold made it no better. Looking down, Cor notices his jacket is no longer with him, neither is Kotetsu, or his phone. Rat bastards have robbed him blind, too.

Cor reaches over to touch his shoulder, its still painful but is the least of his concerns in that moment. Without a jacket he might just freeze to death in his prison despite luck being on his side that fateful afternoon.

Ah, that’s right. When the bomb went off in the middle of the base, Cor was helpless against the walls that crumbled around him, knocking him unconscious and trapping him just as the gunfire started. The Nifs must have won, then fished him out of it for their own reasons. Still, he’s exhausted. What he wouldn’t do for a sip of water.

He looks over to the sink before shaking his head. He’s not that desperate yet.

Some unknown amount of time passes. The cell remains horribly dark with barely any change in light, and with no clock there’s no way to count the minutes or hours that pass, but it was time enough for Cor to regain his breath and slowly sit up. He rubs his arms from the cold and looks around once more.

Immediately, the hairs on his arm stand on end and ice-cold shock throttles him awake. He’s frozen. Right in front of his cell, watching him through that grotesque blood-stained molten armour was General Glauca himself. 

He says nothing as he holds the Marshal captive in his stare. Cor grips his arms tightly to regain control of himself. He’s in danger.

The Generals voice rings deep, masked by the armour but still oddly quiet. “You’ll find no escape from this place, lion.”

Cor immediately scowls, hating how he can’t stare down the man himself in the eye. The General hides his identity well. “You are wasting your time keeping me here. You know you’ll get nothing from me.”

Glauca makes a motion to some unseen console beside the door, it slides open on its own and secures itself as the General walks in. He towers above Cor in such a small room, yet the hardy Marshal doesn’t break his defiant stare. Glauca reaches out, and immediately Cor tenses up. The Marshal realises the man has a flask in hand, and the General harmlessly sets it inside the sink.

But its the blood spatter on the General Glaucas armour thats sets Cor's heart racing. It's still fresh on him.

“Your comrades fought well. But you weren’t there to witness them plead for you.”

The still running blood on his armour sets fire to Cors veins, he snaps, “you Nifs are to _thank_ for that. Are you so proud of the men you killed today?”

“No. But the pleasure of capturing you was robbed from me, Immortal.”

Cor was starting to feel the close proximity between them. He knows first hand exactly what the General is capable of, and in this small space, alone, injured and exhausted, Cor knows the advantage isn’t his.

“As I said, do your worst. I’ll become a ragged corpse first.”

“Have it your way then. Now, get on your belly.”

Shocked, Cor jerked back and his head nearly collides with the wall.

Glauca suddenly seizes Cors legs, pulls him forward and flips him on his front. Cor growls as his entire body screams in blinding pain from hitting concrete again, realising exactly how many of his injuries were internal. His arm shoots out and grips the blanket and stopping himself from making any vulnerable noise.

“What are you doing?!”

A sound emits from deep within the armour, and Glauca presses his hard self against Cors rear, a clawed gauntlet pinning him down between the shoulders and another at his hip.

“You must have a few bone fractures, some nerves damage, amongst other unseen injuries. Struggle and you’ll only harm yourself further.”

More weights shifts forward and the pain burns. Cor grits his teeth, “s-shit!”

Glauca keeps the pressure on his body, the hard edges of his armour aggravating the worse of his bodily injuries.

Cor growls, “I’ve withstood worse torture then this!”

The pain eases slightly, “no, you haven’t…you will serve a purpose here, lion. But you’re not going to die. Not before you surrender yourself completely.”

Glaucas slips his claws beneath the band of Cors trousers and pulls, the item of clothing tugs off Cors hips and fall around his ankles. Suddenly, Cor begins to thrash. He reaches behind to swat the claws away, but they come back and dig into naked flesh.

“You Niflheim _dog_!”

Glauca is unmoved by the prisoners struggle, and as Cor retaliates the General simply kicks his feet wide apart. A solid swat strikes Cor behind his head.

“Behave and you’ll be rewarded.”

“You cant…possibly intend to-!”

“Breath, and bite down.” Glauca warned.

Cor grips the blanket beneath, “y-you can’t!”

The captive cries out and bites down on the blanket as his body is suddenly forced apart. He keeps still as Glauca grips him tightly, granting him the small mercy of pushing in slow and measured. Cors muffled grunts come quick and heavy as his body stretches to accommodate the other mans obscene girth. By the Astrals, he’s hardly inside and Cor can barely stand the stretch.

“Easy now, lion” Glauca warned.

The soldier keeps still as the Niflheim General thrusts inside his body. With every move he feels the other mans heat deeper and deeper and his toes curl when he brushes past Cors prostate. On instinct Cor flinches at the sudden burst of pleasure that renders his cock hard. He dryly swallows a moan that threatens to escape, finally thankful for the mouthful of blanket. He won’t give Glauca the satisfaction.

“Breath deep lion, you’re almost full of me.”

Glauca finally fills up every inch of the Marshal without much resistance and a low pleasured growl emits from deep within his chest. The cold gauntlet comes up the soldiers back, claws scratching skin through thin clothing. A muffled gasp escapes him and his body arches against the sudden sensation.

Armoured fingers wrap around the Marshals neck. Grip firm but hardly life threatening as it holds him in place.

“This isn’t your first time, is it?” Glauca says with thick satisfaction.

Cor silently stews in his own burning fury until his knuckles turn white, almost threatening to tear the blanket beneath him to shreds. The pain of the penetration was hardly the worst thing the soldier ever felt and he hated Glauca for seizing him and bending him over so easily like some city whore, only to humiliate him with this gentle treatment.

What sounds like a soft chuckle came from Glauca, he slowly draws back and thrusts in hard. His grip causes Cors head to jerk back, blanket straining between tight knuckles and grit teeth.

Glauca had to credit Cor for his composure. He was deep within the soldiers guts and barely a noise was made. No matter, his steely resolve won’t last long.

He continues his torment, slow but deep. As delicious as the soft heat was around his cock, there was no need to rush. The true pleasure lay elsewhere. So, he grips the vulnerable neck tighter and leans down against Cors back, forearm holding him up and hips pounding into the battered body beneath.

Cor meekly tries to pry the hand off his neck to no avail. His hand falling uselessly down again, the soldiers whole mind was slowly falling silent, all he can see, hear and feel was Glauca inside of him and the assault was relentless. The sudden weight on his back brought an end to all thoughts of escape. The thrusting rhythmic and the sound of armour hitting tender flesh hypnotic. If only the General could stop hitting his sensitive spot within, then he might just convince himself that he wasn’t feeling an ounce of pleasure. Oh, he was starting to break out into a sweat.

Above, there was something about Cors ragged and muffled breathing that made Glauca feel intense pleasure surge at his core. He dare not take his eyes off his captive for a moment, fearing he would miss a single sound, movement, anything that might give away the soldier was losing his mind. But his climax was approaching; the sight of the Marshal pinned down by his cock was more intense than he ever imagined it to be.

A fire was lit within the General as the blanket finally slipped from between peach lips. Cor finally surrendered a sweet moan.

Such a sight to behold. “You’re almost too much, lion.”

Glauca pulls out swiftly and Cor groans at the sudden absence.

“Done already?” Cor hisses. 

Glauca grabs Cors thigh and flips him on his back. The Marshals sky blue eyes are alert and the soldier suddenly throws a hefty punch, colliding with Glaucas chin. It sends the General in a moment of panic and he quickly snatches the arm before Cor can retract. The skin on his hand has ripped from colliding with hard armour and he’s already bleeding.

There it was, the fighting spirit Glauca had sorely missed on the battlefield earlier that day.

Glauca forces both arms down above Cors head as hard as he can. Seeing Cor flinch in pain pleased him somewhat, but it wasn’t enough. He slides a hand up the prisoners stomach and brings the shirt with it, pushing it just over Cors head and tucking it behind the neck.

“Is there no end to your depravity?!” Cor works up the strength to spit right at Glaucas face. Still wriggling to try and move himself away from the wall at his head.

Glauca keeps him in place by the arms, letting the shirt tangle between the elbows.

“Worry about your own debasement, lion.” Glauca says. Cors trousers have already fallen away from his feet, and for the first time he sees the soldiers naked body in full.

The bruises were very apparent and coloured the sides of his body and thighs beautifully. The grazes and cuts all over him already starting to heal well. His toned belly rose and fell with his laboured breathing, and Glaucas eyes are drawn to the soldiers cock resting helplessly against the mans belly. Hard, pink and very clearly wanting attention.

The General frowns; his own mouth is going dry at the thought of feeling the soldiers cock in his mouth. Of watching him come undone by his tongue alone. How humiliated Cor would feel at being forced to climax by his enemies mouth. Even more so if he forced the soldier to his knees and make him service the General with those pretty lips.

Cor pushed against the grip on his arms again and it brings the General back from his thoughts.

Such experiments would have to wait for another time. Right now it’s taking every ounce of Cors remaining strength to keep fighting. The dark circles beneath the Marshals eyes were telling, and Glaucas own body was already begging for release. 

He truly did admire the Immortal Lions strength. It only added to the mans beauty.

With careful manoeuvring Glauca raised Cors right leg up, resting his ankle inside a groove in his pauldron. He quickly pressed the head of his cock against Cors entrance and pushed. Glauca cursed as he found Cor tight again.

“Enough, please.” Cor pleaded breathlessly.

Before Cor could thrash again, Glauca breached his entrance and thrust his length in to the hilt.

“Aah!” The Marshal could no longer resist. How could his body even accommodate such a stretch and still feel so good. Cors nerves were on rapid fire and his own neglected cock throbbed at every moment. Even then all he could think about was his body clutching tightly at the intrusion and the harsh movement of the Generals hips.

Cor nearly saw the stars as somehow the man managed to push deeper and deeper. Glaucas pleasured growls were starting to arouse him, too.

“Glauca, n-no.”

The Marshal hated this angle, on his back Cor watched his own violation. Watched how the endowed length of the General penetrated him with such ease; his own hips rocking in sync with the man above him all helpless and hungry.

He let his head drop back and closes his eyes tight. He gives in and moans again and again.

“Aah, fuck!” 

“_Look at me_!” The deep growl startled Cor and he stared at the mass of armour above him. There was no time to process his words. Glauca lets go of Cors arms and ripped the shirt away from him, his attention turns to hitch the stray leg against his hip. Both hands now securely on his prisoners waist, Glauca resumes his thrusts with mounting fervour.

Cor is lost to the numbing pleasure, he reaches out and grips tight onto the Generals arms, it only excites the man further. He quickly hauls his knee onto the beds edge and props himself up with an arm and hovers over the Marshal.

Cors eyes narrow in confusion but pleasured sounds come free, louder and clearer, they echo around every corner of the small cell utterly surrounding their small world. Glauca never enjoyed a sound more than Cors honesty.

“Argh! Look at yourself, Cor, this is…your purpose now.” Glaucas breathing is deep, heart racing as pleasure climbs to the peak. The armour sits unbearably tight now.

The General is so rough Cor could barely retaliate with his words, every breath he took was literally fucked right out of him. It's too much, and he surrenders himself for more; so he brings an arm between them and relieves his aching cock, stroking himself with Glaucas rhythm. With a hand on his cock and Glauca hitting all the right spots within him, the fire is sweetly soothed. 

“J-Just like that, please.” Cor barely registers the insanity of his own words. Soon. Soon the torment will end, both Glauca and his own climax. He needs it now. Quick.

The soldiers keening proved overwhelming for Glauca; he lets go and drags both his claws over taught skin, hands pressing down so hard on the mans bare body he could almost gauge how firm the soldier is. Cor groans at the claws leaving harsh red trails over his breasts and hips, raising small hairs on end and tiny beaded blood in their wake. Such heat coursing his veins.

Cor gasps, eyes nearly rolling back. It has Glauca enraptured.

What it must be like to feel the Marshals body against his own, skin on skin, no armour and no loyalties in between. Shit.

“Come! Need to- come!” Simple words from a prisoner sends Glauca over the edge without warning.

Hips pump hard and abruptly and Glauca finally growls deep in climax. The awaited release spilling deep inside his captive.

“I’m-I’m going to-”

The Marshal whole body shudders as he squeezes his member tightly and climaxes, white seed pulsing over his navel and catching on the Generals armour.

His body goes slack and eyes threaten to shut in sleep. It's too good yet too exhausting.

Glauca slowly rocks back and forth as he rides out his orgasm, Cor can see the mans arm shake at the struggle to keep his huge weight up.

“You’ve done enough, Glauca…pull it out.” Glauca doesn’t move yet and ignores him momentarily. The Marshal tries to shuffle away from the General again. Already coming down from the high of his orgasm, his nerves make him sensitive and twitchy. Glaucas grip in his waist simply tightens like a vice. Cor sighs in resignation, exhausted, sweaty and aching like no tomorrow. 

When Glauca finally comes to his senses, he sighs, watching Cor silently until the man turns away and shields himself from the gaze with an arm over his head.

Cor pleads again, “General, please just pull it out. I can feel it…”

“Tell me what it is you feel.”

The captive pushes at Glauca with his legs, moving his hips to free himself. Glauca holds Cor tightly in place.

With a huff Cor relents, “Your damned semen, I can feel it in me.”

“Good…”

With that, Glauca pulls himself out and lowers Cors legs. Cor hisses in disgust as he feels the Generals seed drip down his thighs. Never mind how hollow and painful his insides feel.

Cor musters up enough strength to get his legs onto the bed and shuffle to the corner, far from the General.

Glauca simply tucks himself back behind his codpiece. He reaches for the flask in the sink and sets it right in front of Cor on the bed. Cors sharp eyes dart between him and the flask, almost tempted to throw it back.

“As I said, behave and you’ll be rewarded.”

Cor scowls, “you’re nothing but a monster.”

Glauca leaves, shutting cell door firmly behind him. “Drink and rest. Tomorrow won’t be any easier.”

He disappears down the hall and into the dark, leaving Cor alone to stew in the ordeal he had just been put through. The concrete is hard against him, but he pulls the blanket and manages to roll it up enough to be soft on his back. He finds his trousers and his shirt again and pulls them on against the biting cold in his cell. Curling up he looks at the flask again.

He stares at it for a long time, lips parched and dry. Surely the tap in the sink would have some form of drinkable water in it too. In case the flask was some form of cruel joke. Worst scenario being its poisoned. In which case, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. But considering Glaucas words it didn’t seem like the General had any plans to see him dead anytime soon.

Then, there may be an opportunity to escape this place somehow.

He reaches out and grabs the flask, its about a standard size and colour. Solid and made of metal and cold to the touch. Nothing special. He twists it open and peers inside. It's all black within and Cor has no idea what kind of liquid it is. It looked like water and by the Astrals it looked wonderful.

He swallows and takes a sip. The Marshal does a double take and frowns. Its not water, rather, it’s the distinct taste of tea, bitter, earthy and unsweetened. The kind of tea commonly served in Insomnia; standard green tea.

Its almost like he’s home again. Cor closes his eyes, and drinks it to the last drop. Imagining for a moment that he’s anywhere else then the cold, lonely dark.


End file.
